Gold (All that Glitters #2)(81)

She reached for her clothes and righted herself. “I should go,” she murmured.

“Wait, what?” he asked.

He touched for her, and she spun away from him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” She covered her face, heaving in a deep breath.

“That was incredible. There was nothing wrong with that,” he said.

She could hear the pain in his voice.

“I can’t do this! Don’t you understand? We can’t be together!” she yelled. It made no sense with what she had just done, but she was pushing all of that aside and giving in to this terror welling inside of her.

“We can. We can be together. We just were.” He gestured around the locker room.

“No.” She shook her head. “This isn’t how this works.”

“Why?” he yelled right back. “Why can’t it work? You wanted this. You wanted this to happen between us. Can you look me in the eye and say you don’t have feelings for me?”

She stared at him and clenched her jaw. “That’s the point, Eric. I do. I do have feelings for you. And I shouldn’t. It scares the shit out of me. You’re dangerous, and you are only going to break my heart. I…I don’t trust myself when I’m with you.”

“You can’t really mean that,” he said, uncertain, his voice losing its edge.

“I do. I mean it wholeheartedly.”

She swallowed hard and then brushed past him, leaving the locker room. Her whole body was humming from what had happened, yet she had tears falling out of her eyes, tears she couldn’t control or explain.

This is the right thing. That was what she kept telling herself through the tears.

THE HOUSE WAS EMPTY.

Cold.

Lifeless.

What had once brought her so much happiness left her with a bad taste of desperate materialism. Everything from the hardwood floors to the Swarovski chandelier to the pool out back and the rich furnishings within made her feel slightly nauseated.

Every day, all it did was bring back memories of Barcelona. The look on Hugh’s face when she’d asked about his wife. His very dead wife. His anger and rather valid accusations. The ease with which he had thrown that necklace over the balcony just to show how little money meant to him. She could still recall exactly what he had looked like when she said she didn’t love him. It made her cringe all over again.

She couldn’t change it now. She didn’t love him. She had cared for him, but she had been selfish from the start.

Young, selfish, and stupid.

Just like she had been with Eric. Her heart constricted, and she stumbled up the stairs to her bedroom. It was immaculate, all classic whites and blacks, just as she had left it. Yet it didn’t even feel like hers. It felt like a version of the person she had contrived for Hugh out of the person she had become after Jude left her. Looking around, she didn’t even know why she had ever thought she wanted this.

She shivered at the depressing chill that wracked her body. She hated feeling like this. Vulnerability was not her norm. But she couldn’t bring back the self-assurance she wore like a second skin.

Thinking about Eric only made it worse. She had never been good at turning down sex, and when he had approached her, all of her desire for him had exploded into that one singular moment. It was a year of pent-up energy that had cracked open like fireworks in the night sky. But she couldn’t let it happen again. She didn’t want to lead him on or hurt him.

Jude had hurt her, and though Eric was far from Jude, he had the same ability to completely and utterly wreck her very existence, taking this semblance of control that she still clung to like a life raft and leave her drowning in the middle of the ocean.

God, I need to get a grip.

She clawed her clothes off her body and threw them in a pile in the corner of her room. Even though they reminded her of how she had let Eric f*ck her in the locker room, she smiled at the mess. Then, she stepped into the giant waterfall shower and turned it to scalding. She stood under the spray until her body was pink and tender, letting the water wash away all remnants of what had passed between them.

She took time to blow her hair out, making it pencil-straight, and forced out the memory of him fingering the wavy tresses with such care. The person he had kissed wasn’t even her. It had been someone who was both mentally and physically exhausted that she hadn’t even taken time to do her hair. She couldn’t let herself do that again. Once she was finished, she slipped into a pair of black designer jeans and a black crop top.

There. Now, she felt more like herself. Except for this house. It still haunted her. She was slowly suffocating under the weight of Hugh’s presence here.

She had to get out. Picking up her phone, she dialed Trihn’s number.

“Hey!” Trihn said. “How was your first day back?”

“Eventful.”

“I bet! I’m in this new art class with Neal, and it’s amazing! What are you up to?”

“I’m at home.” She bit her lip, debating if she could do this. “Do, uh…do you think I could stay with you?”

“Like, at my apartment?” Trihn asked, confused.

“Yeah. I mean, for the night. I can’t be here for another second longer.”

“Sure. Of course. What’s wrong with your place?”